It Was Just A Game
by veronica lupin
Summary: Why did Voldie go after HP and his family? Could it having something to do with James, a gambling addiction, and a backroom poker game w/ the Dark Lord? Read and Review! :)


                Have you ever wondered why Lord Voldemorte was/is out to get Harry? Why he went to the Potter's on that fateful night? Well, during one particularly sleep deprived night, I developed a theory, and it goes a little something like this…

*****

                "Now that we've officially placed our bets, let the truth be known."

                James Potter wiped the sweat from his forehead. How did he get into this mess? For Merlin's sake, he had a beautiful wife and child at home. Why was he sitting in a dimly lit backroom of a seedy bar, in Knockturn Alley nonetheless? Time slowed down as James thought back to how this all began.

                He recalled how he and Lily were just up-start aurors with the Minister of Magic, fresh from training. They had left their school days behind, and joined the working ranks, protecting the wizarding world from the forces of darkness. Actually it was more like assisting the assistants to the assistants of the actual aurors; however it was a job and it paid the bills. Through some hard work (or at least well-placed friends), they would move quickly up in the ranks. 

                One evening not too long ago, perhaps five or so years, the Potters had an unexpected visitor.

                "Professor Dumbledore! What are you doing here?" Lily was rather surprised to see their old headmaster standing in their doorway.

                "Please call me Albus," he said with a smile. "May I come in? I have a few matters to discuss with you and James."

                It turned out that Dumbledore was starting a special task force (if you will) to battle Lord Voldemorte and his Deatheater followers. James couldn't help but feel a bit hesitant; Lord Voldemorte had killed so many people by that point and continued to grow more powerful by the day. How Dumbledore expected them to make a difference in this war was beyond James. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards ever; why would he need help? Yet, they still heard him out and finally decided to join. Who could refuse such a noble cause?

                With this simple agreement, James and Lily changed their lives forever. They basically became spies; they followed Voldemorte's movements and searched for clues that might reveal weaknesses. There were many duels between them and the Deatheaters, usually followed up with nights of nursing wounds. Sirius and Remus were a part of this team as well. They spent a good bit of their down time goofing off just like their days at Hogwarts. It was just like old times but with greater risk of life and limb. 

                However, during this time James developed a rather serious affliction. In order to get information on Voldemorte's movements, he had to frequent places where the Dark Lord's kind were. Well, they most certainly were not hanging out in the Leaky Cauldron; James needed to be where the low lifes of the magic world were. Knockturn Alley was the center of this activity, and more specifically, a pub by the name The Dementor's Kiss. It wasn't so much that Voldemorte planned everything from this establishment. This was the hot bed of rumors and gossip for the magic underworld. Even with Snape working as a double agent, he wasn't part of the inner circle and therefore not privy to the more devious and secretive plans. The group needed more info. 

                All of this had been James's plan. He suggested the idea of monitoring the grapevine (so to speak) and then volunteered to implement it. Needless to say, Lily was less than thrilled; she had just found out that she was pregnant with their first child. James assured her that he would be safe and told her not to worry. What could possibly go wrong?

                Well for starters, a gambling addiction. James found that The Dementor's Kiss had quite the backroom poker games. The chitchat at those tables provided the group countless leads and insider information on Deatheater activity. James would buy into the games and while he played, he took careful note of the conversation. In order to blend in, he had to sharpen his skills at poker. As his skill grew, he was subtly able to manipulate the game to affect the outcome of the game and thus affect the flow of information. He would purposely lose if it meant a certain informant would allow a certain informant to win; winning a hand or two had a wonderful tendency to loosen the tongue of the winner. It was almost better than alcohol. James would also win if it got rid of a player who was of no use really; the open seat could possibly be filled with someone more useful. 

                However in learning the game and manipulating it, James was sucked in. The power that the cards held, the myriad of combinations that were possible, and the hierarchy that resulted from each combo, these things began to befuddle James's mind and blind him to his true mission. Plus the money that he had won wasn't bad either. James won so much that he opened a separate account at Gringotts to keep his winnings secret from Lily. He did set it up though, so that if anything happened to him, the money would be transferred to their shared vault. Yet, all this did not change the fact that he began to slack on his true duties and became obsessed with the game. When he wasn't playing, James was often irritable and snappish on nights when he couldn't go. Things became so bad that those around him approached him about the changes in his demeanor. He would mutter something about not sleeping and then quickly change the subject. Lily took the changes the hardest. By this point their son, Harry, was nearly two months old and the last thing she needed was a moody husband. Whenever she'd ask what was wrong, he would brush her off and insist that nothing was wrong. 

                "But James, something is wrong. You haven't been yourself for so long," Lily pleaded one night. She was holding Harry in a protective and worried embrace while looking at James with tears in her eyes. "I'm worried."

                James looked at her and softened as he lost himself in her emerald eyes. How could he continue to hurt the ones he loved the most? But how could he leave the game that gave him power and an escape? The smell and feel of the cards, the clink of galleons being tossed into the pot, the rush of adrenaline if there was any doubt as to what one's opponent was holding. All of this had an intoxicating effect on James. He could never let go of this mistress, at least not easily. James lowered his eyes and said, "I have to go. I'll be back later."

                That was two days ago and now here James was, at a crossroads. Tonight started off like any other night at The Dementor's Kiss. James came and bought his way into a game. Lady Luck happened to be with him then; one of the players was a particular Deatheater with links into the inner circle. This particular player also happened to have a Neanderthal's grasp of poker (and everything else in the world, for that matter.) 

                Coins were being tossed into the middle of the table and drinks were being passed around; it was business as usual for James. However, things were a bit off this night. James noticed that the Neanderthal kept looking across the room nervously. He followed the Neanderthal's gaze and saw whom he was looking at. The person was a bit unusual even by this pub's guidelines. He (or she) was wearing a heavy, black hooded cape that completely covered their head and face. James would have thought this person was an actual dementor had he not seen their hands; they were pale and bony, and the fingers were unnaturally long. James continued to stare at and ponder the person across the room until the stranger turned in his direction. The stranger seemed to be staring right back at James; he shuddered and turned back to his game. James didn't like the feel of that person, whoever they were. He wondered if the Neanderthal and the stranger were somehow connected. 

                James' question about the stranger was answered a short while later. The stranger across the room got up and glided over to his table. All of the players at his table got up and left the backroom, as did every other player in the room. In about a minute, only James, the stranger, and the Neanderthal remained. James was trying his best not to panic. 

                "My associate here tells me that you are quite the poker player," the stranger said. His high shrill voice chilled James to the bone and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. "Care to play a hand or two?"

                "Sure." What was James supposed to say? He felt as though he would lose his life if he didn't. The Neanderthal pulled out a chair directly across from James, and the stranger sat in it. The Neanderthal then left the room as well. 

                And so it began. They played two hands with James winning the first and the stranger the second. Both hands took quite some time to play; the players were taking their time and studying each other intently. 

                "Well, you are pretty good I must admit," the stranger said after James won the second hand. "At first I didn't believe that this was how he was getting his information. I guess I just underestimated him."

                "What are you talking about? How who got what information?" Something told James that his cover was blown. 

                "That old git Dumbledore. You work for him and his group that's out to stop me and my people." There seemed to be a hint of amusement in the stranger's voice.

                Shock spread through James' body as he realized who was actually sitting in front of him. "You- you are…"

                The stranger reached up and pulled his hood back. His head was bald and his skin pale. He looked back at James with gleaming red serpentine eyes and breathed deeply through his slitted nostrils. Panic rose once again in James; he never planned for something like this to happen. What in the world was he supposed to do? 

                "Yes I am Lord Voldemorte. And you are James Potter. Pleased to make your acquaintance," Lord Voldemorte stood up and stretched out a pale hand. James looked at it and made the decision: if Voldemorte was going to be so calm about everything, then so was he. James stood up and shook hands. Voldemorte's hand was icy as though there was no blood flowing through it. They both sat down again and coolly examined each other. 

                "How do you know my name and who I work for?" James asked nonchalantly. It was time for everyone to lay their cards on the table.

                "You aren't the only one with friends on the inside," Voldemorte said as he shuffled the deck of cards. "How about we have one last round, but with higher stakes?"

                He had James' attention. Voldemorte was speaking his language. "What kind of stakes?"

                "Oh it's rather simple really. We play one hand of five-card draw, nothing wild. I win, I kill you for your little acts of espionage. You win, I tell you who betrayed you to me. Either way, it's no skin off my back."

                "Hold on. You see, that's the problem. It's no skin off your back, but it's a raw deal for me. What makes you think I care who revealed me to you?"

                Voldemorte set the deck down and looked at James. He wasn't pleased that James was less than thrilled with the stakes. "I don't think you understand. Your life is on the line because you messed with the wrong person. Either I kill you now, or we play and you die trying."

                James knew that he was in no position to dictate terms. He nodded in acceptance of the terms. 

"Good. Now then, do you want to deal or shall I?" he asked.

James thought for a moment. "This might be stupid, but you deal." Voldemorte dealt and the game began.

                "Give me three," James said and three more cards he received. Voldemorte took two for himself. When James picked up his three new cards, he had the hardest time concealing his excitement. A straight flush! Voldemorte had no chance. Perhaps he would get out of this with his life.

                Voldemorte picked up his two new cards. He must have charmed his face to remain that stoic; James couldn't even begin to guess what Voldemorte was holding. Yet James knew that Voldemorte had a snowball's chance in hell at beating him. But what if he was wrong?… no, there was no way. 

                Voldemorte calmly set his hand face down on the table. He looked James dead in the eyes and smiled. It wasn't one of those smiles of geniality, like between friends. It was one of those smiles of an enemy that was going to make a situation worse than it already was. 

                "You know, a poker game is so boring and mundane if it is simply played for the opening bets," he said with a sigh.

                "Well, let's see," James began. "You've already put my life on the line. There really isn't too much I could put up that would make this more interesting. I somehow don't think a few galleons would interest you." 

                Voldemorte laughed derisively. "Yes, a few galleons do not make a difference to me. In all honesty, I find that human life is the best to gamble with."

                James felt as though someone had just dumped ice water on him. Through the dizziness, James saw where the Dark Lord was going with all of this. If he knew about James's involvement in Dumbledore's group, then he would know about those closest to him. Those closest to him were human lives, perfect for gambling away in Voldemorte's opinion.

                James swallowed. "Let's cut to the chase. Who do you have in mind?"

                "Your son."

                James laughed nervously. "Oh, you don't want my son. He cries all the time, poops, pukes. A busy dark lord like yourself wouldn't have time to take care of him." He had to make Voldemorte pick someone else. He didn't want to lose his son. There was something inherently different about gambling Sirius's life in comparison to his first born. Besides, Lily would kill him. 

                Yet throughout all these thoughts, James couldn't help but be intrigued. The stakes had never been this high before. Adrenaline was surging through his body. Why shouldn't James go along with Voldemorte's idea? He had a straight and the odds of Voldemorte having a royal flush were slim to none. All James had to do was to request a proper reward for when he won. What was he to do? Oh well. Either way, Lily would kill him. 

                "Fine," James said after his internal debate, "but if I win, you tell me who the informant is and there's a six month suspension of your group's activities anywhere. Unless you have any children I could play for?"

                "Fortunately for you, no," Voldemorte laughed shrilly. "I suppose that's a fair deal. I could use a vacation from terrorizing the populace. Perhaps I can catch up on a few pet projects."

                "What? Global domination is not a hobby?"

                Voldemorte gave James a warning look. Must not be a good idea to ask about the Dark Lord's personal life. "Now that we've officially placed our bets, let the truth be known." 

                James couldn't hold it off anymore; he broke out in a cold sweat and his hands began to shake. The reality of this game was sinking in. Even though his hand was strong, there was that little bit of doubt lingering in the back of his mind. So much was riding on the five cards he held in his trembling hands. Voldemorte was watching James intently. James couldn't help but think that perhaps he was amused by his rather apparent anxiety. He began to lower his hand, slowly revealing all that he held. A second long eternity later and James's straight flush was resting on the table. He breathed in deeply and slowly exhaled. It was almost over and despite his anxiety, James had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he had won. 

                But you see, that's the thing about feelings in the pit of the stomach; it's easy to misinterpret that intuitive bowel anomaly as something good. As soon as James's hand was resting comfortably on the table, the corners of Voldemorte's mouth crept up into a sinister smug smile. James felt the fear fill his body and knew that, with that smile, his life was over. 

                "Impressive, but like everything else your side does, it just isn't enough." With that and a flick of the wrist, Voldemorte revealed his cards: a royal flush. 

                James stared catatonically at the cards. "Damn. Maybe I should've dealt."

                "How entertaining this all was! My, its qualities surpassed that of torturing muggle children. Yet sadly all good things must come to an end." He stood up and the smile faded away. "It's time to cash in the chips."

                Voldemorte pulled out his wand and pointed straight at James. James knew what words would soon follow: _Avada Kedavra. His only consolation in all this was that his death would be quick and painless. If only he could warn Lily…_

                "You know, I think I'll kill your child as well. I'm not too interested in being a father figure for anyone."

                "You monster! You sadistic bastard! How dare you arbitrarily destroy countless lives! Is nothing sacred? Were you ever human?! Wait, wait, wait. Is anything I'm saying making its way into the chasm that's between your ears?" James had to say something in order to stall in the false hope that something might save him. 

                "I may be a monster, but I am above human. I have power you could never dream of having and would never be able to defeat. I will kill whomever I want, you naïve twit, and there is no one who can stop me," Voldemorte snarled, wand still fixed on James. "Good riddance, Mr. Potter."

                Voldemorte's lips parted ever so slightly to begin the fateful incantation. James breathed his last breath. He had lived a good life. 

                Someone smiled on James at that moment because the door flew open and threw off Voldemorte's concentration. The curse still went off but it missed James by a good foot or so. James still ducked out of the seat and hid behind the leg of the table. He peeked around the edge of the table to see who had saved him.

                "Oh great! More of Dumbledore's lackeys," Voldemorte sneered. It was Sirius and Remus with their wands drawn. James's heart leapt. He was He was saved! All they had to do was leave. 

                Emboldened, James stood up and said, "Didn't think I would come without back-up, eh?" Of course, he was surprised by his friends' sudden appearance, but he was going to play it to his advantage. 

                "You okay there, James?" Remus called.

                "Yeah, what about you guys?"

                "Not my idea of a good time," Sirius replied with a hint of sarcasm.

                "Now that hellos are out of the way, I'd like to get back to the business at hand," interjected Voldemorte. He shot a curse in the direction of Sirius and Remus. The two jumped in separate directions shooting curses right back at the Dark Lord. Voldemorte jumped out of the path of the curses. James saw their chance. 

                "Quick! The door!" he yelled. The three of them continued to send curses in the direction of Voldemorte as they made a break for it. Once they were out of the backroom, Remus slammed the door shut and sent tables and chairs flying at it, thus blocking it with a barrier of furniture. The three of them could hear Voldemorte cursing from behind, trying to break through. Sirius stopped and grabbed a bottle of vodka. 

                "Anybody got a match?" he said as he proceeded to douse the bar. 

                "You know, there are easier ways to burn a bridge," Remus said.

                "I know, but this is more fun," Sirius replied. 

                James was growing more impatient by the second. Remus's blockade was wavering with each of Voldemorte's blows. James shot some orange flame from his wand on to the bar. When the fire hit the vodka, it spread the length of bar. 

                "Let's go!" James yelled. As they turned to head for the front door, there was an explosion from behind. Sadly, the explosion wasn't from the rest of the alcohol. Voldemorte finally broke through the blockade. His slitted nostrils were flaring and James could've sworn the queasy feeling he had was due to the pure evil that Voldemorte was radiating. 

                "Leaving so soon?" he yelled over the roar of the growing flames. 

                "You see, what had happened was-" Sirius began.

                "Shut up, you imbecile!" Voldemorte shouted. He looked at James. "Did you think you'd get out of our wager that easily? You owe me and I will collect!"

                Voldemorte started walking towards them. However, he didn't even take two steps before the remainder of the alcohol caught fire. The ensuing explosion sent shards of glass and various flaming alcohols everywhere. Voldemorte was knocked down while James and his friends ducked and covered their heads. When James looked up, Voldemorte was laying still on the floor, apparently knocked out for the time being. 

                "Let's go!" James yelled again. He grabbed the back of Sirius and Remus's jackets and dragged them out into the street. Another explosion went off once they were out. 

                "There is no way he could've survived that," Sirius said as he looked in awe at the inferno. 

                "Merlin's beard, I hope not," panted James. The last thing he needed was to pay off such a debt. 

                "What in the world was he talking about, James? What do you owe him?" Remus asked. 

                James froze. Should he tell them? What would they say when he told them his life and Harry's were owed to the Dark Lord? James somehow felt that it would take more than a fire to kill him. Lord Voldemorte would be back, and then what? He had to tell his friends something, incase Voldemorte did return. 

                "Well, we kind of got into a game of poker," he began slowly.

                "That much we can guess," Sirius said sarcastically. "Why the hell did you play him?"

                "When Voldemorte challenges you to a game, it's kind of hard to refuse. Anyway, we played and he put my life on the line. If he won, he got to kill me. If I won, I found out who their informant was."

                "Informant? You die? What on earth was going on?" Remus said.

                "Apparently, Voldemorte knows about our group, Dumbledore's group. And there is someone in the group that has been reporting to Voldemorte. If I won, he would tell me who this informant was."

                "And if he won, you would die for the bit of information you've gathering here. And judging from the state of affairs when we came in, you didn't fair so well, right?" 

                "Right." He couldn't tell them more than that. They at least knew that his life was on the line. Anymore information would result in some terrible questions being asked. 

                "You git!" exclaimed Sirius as he whacked the back of James's head with his palm. "If we hadn't of come, you'd have been dead!"

                James rubbed the back of head. "Hey, what are you two doing here anyway?"

                "Your loving and beautiful wife has been worried sick about you. She sent us to bring you home and to tell you what a rotten person you are," explained Remus. 

                "Plus she needed you to pick up milk on your way home," Sirius added.

                "Lily…," James whispered. It was like coming out of dream, back to reality. "Well, why are we standing here? Let's go! Unless one you really wants to explain to the authorities what had happened here."

                "Hmmm… not so much," said  Sirius. The three of them began to walk back to Diagon Alley and to the Leaky Cauldron. From there they apparated back to their own homes. With a pop, James was standing on the front steps to his house. He looked up at the windows. All the lights were off, except one: their bedroom. James took a deep breath and opened the door. He was going to tell Lily the same story that he told Remus and Sirius, nothing more, nothing less. Yet, he would still make sure that Harry was equally protected, if not more so. Lily would know a good charm that would keep their son safe from anything, even the Dark Lord. 

                The door closed and James called out, "Lily, I'm home."

*****

Author's Note: Well? Huh? huh? What did y'all think? I probably should've been working my other story, but the idea for this story was too appealing. I just had to do it. I have more crackpot ideas and theories. If I get enough good reviews, then I might just share those as well. Hee hee. Fun. Read my other story if you haven't : _Padded Cell For One. If you have any questions or see a hole in my theory, be sure to tell me. _

~ Veronica Lupin J 


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